


Unsanctioned Operation

by TheRegalist



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRegalist/pseuds/TheRegalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina Mills hasn't been back home since she left five years ago, and she hasn't thought too much about that until her Father calls in desperate need of her help. Emma Swan the sheriff of a quiet small town who doesn't like the upswing of crime in her area or the hot woman who's snooping around her cases, even if she's insanely good at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: talk of child abduction. 
> 
> Hey been awhile my lovely swanqueeners. I have missed you. This is just drabble that came out of my brain. Thought I'd share, but not sure if it will continue. As always, let me know what you think!

It’s been five years.

Storybrooke, Maine hasn’t changed much in that time. Old Man French’s decrypt looking farm still greets you when you come in on the west end. The welcoming sign is the same tacky one from the 80s that the town declared a historical landmark after 2 years. There’s nothing but green trees and lots of water in all forms for miles. 

The sleek, black sedan cruises about twenty miles above the speed limit as it crosses the small town’s border finally. It won’t be long before the Mercedes is driving down Main Street, turning heads as they wonder who’s driving the strange vehicle. Luxury cars are not common in this place. 

They won’t be able to recognize her through the tinted windows. That’s probably for the best, until she figures out how long she’s going to be staying. 

Why did she come back here? 

It’s a question that’s been running through her mind on repeat since she got in the car this morning. The only thing that prevented her from turning back around was replaying the sound of her Father’s voice when he called and asked her to. It was almost…desperate. Whatever it was, the man’s tone scared her enough to actually get in the car and drive from D.C. Something she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do in a long time. She always did have a soft spot for the man who raised her. 

There are about a dozen familiar faces staring at the car when she makes it to what is considered the downtown area. 

Faces she could have gone the rest of her life without seeing again. She does her best to speed through the road that is necessary to take to get to her parent’s house. She had begged her Mom and Dad to construct a short-cut from the outskirts that led straight to their house, but apparently that was too extensive a plan ‘to avoid people who you need to learn to deal with’ as her Mother put it at the time. 

She was just looking for an easy way home. Sometimes living in a place where everyone knew you was a bit suffocating. There was just no escape. 

Her Father still hasn’t paved the dirt road that leads to her childhood home. Her Mother had been pestering him about it for years, saying it ruined her tires, but he insisted it added character. As if an ancient farmhouse needed more of that. 

The place had been around for nearly 300 years with a dirt road, and that was good enough for him. 

It’s still the same. 

The gate’s password is still her birthday, and she punches it in wondering if they finally changed it. When the iron bars surge apart, it answers her question. She smiles at that, because some memories are good ones. 

Her Mercedes travels the mile long driveway just fine. She’s forgotten how much she used to love this place. There are pastures on either side of the path, horses grazing as they lounge in the sun. It’s beautiful, reminiscent of her younger years when she would have been flocking in those meadows with the horses. How she misses those days. 

The old stables are still standing. That place was suppose to be destroyed having been labeled ‘condemned’ nearly twenty years ago. When she was younger she use to sneak in there when she wanted time alone. She’s lucky she never fell through the roof or ran into a hobo. 

The new stable building is in the back and that’s where they house most of the animals, or so she’s been told. She left before they finished it. 

Even with the darkened windshield easing the sun’s rays, and her sunglasses, there’s a blinding glare coming off the stark-white mansion’s exterior. Her Father had always said that her Grandfather did that on purpose; to disorient visitors. Apparently he was an asshole. Guess it runs in the family. 

It’s a strange yet familiar action to pull her car around the circular driveway. The fountain that her Great-Grandmother had installed still sits in the center, and the water is trickling down like she’s just entered a resort. 

The black sedan’s not in the driveway for more than ten seconds before she can see her Dad coming out the front door in the rearview mirror. There’s no going back now. 

She takes a deep breath, steading herself as she prepares for an extremely uncomfortable reunion with the people who raised her. 

“Mija!” Henry Mills practically sings as he pulls his daughter into a fierce hug as soon as she steps out of the car. As much as she wants to fight it, she falls into the embrace like an old habit.

“Hola Papi,” she greets, giving him a smile that she finds is genuine. The man smells of cigars, whiskey, and his cologne that he’s been using since the 60s. “Donde es Mama?” she asks, in Spanish knowing how much his native language means to him. It does come in handy at times. 

“In her study,” he answers promptly. His blue eyes giving her a remorseful look, as he knows what his daughter meant in asking. 

“I guess a visit from her only daughter who she hasn’t seen in five years isn’t enough to pull her from work?” she inquires, a bitter sound to her voice. It’s a taste she hates in her mouth, but she can’t help it. 

“Regina, you know how your Mother is.” 

She lets out a sigh, because yeah, she does. That’s what bothers her the most. He takes her hand, squeezing it before he wraps it around his arm. They avoid going into the house, choosing to instead stroll down the stone path that leads to the old gazebo. A brief reprieve for them before they step foot in the estate and the inevitable shit-storm will begin to rain down on them. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to make me ask?” she ventures, once they’re sitting down on the bench that overlooks the entire property. Acres and acres of fields, horses, and everything that Mother Nature has to offer. It’s a nice change of pace from the city.

“You never were one to beat around the bush,” he recalls, chuckling to himself as he studies his daughter. She’s so grown-up. Gone is the wide-eyed brunette with pigtails, who wore overalls and cowboy boots as she ran wild on this land. Regina had been so carefree as a child. That innocence has long left his daughter; who is a woman now. 

She doesn’t answer him. Merely purses her lips and narrows her eyes in mock offence as he laughs at her. It’s a look that he’s all too familiar with, as his wife has been giving it to him since their first date. Seems the apple doesn’t fall as far from the tree as much as Regina would like to think it does. 

“I called you at your Mother’s request.” It’s the truth, even though he did want to see her. He knows she’s angry, he can see it in her eyes even though her face remains placid. She feels betrayed, but she would have never come if Cora had asked. And his wife would have never called. 

“It has to do with what you do for a living now,” he admits. 

Regina’s head tilts toward him at that. “You know I can’t talk about that Papi.” She’s got her guard up now, her training kicking in. Suspect everyone, trust no one. No one brings up her job unless, well no one does actually. Ever. 

“I’m not asking you to,” he clarifies, ”Regina we’re in trouble and we need your help.” His daughter’s eyes search his, for what exactly he’s unsure. But, he looks back with as much sincerity as he can pour out. 

“What kind of trouble?” she asks, knowing that her trip to Storybrooke is not going to be as brief as she’d like. 

\------------------------------- 

Cora Mills drops the manila folder onto her desk as if it’s a discarded flyer for half priced furniture. There’s a coldness about her Mother that is familiar, and agitating. She couldn’t even act surprised, or pleased, or pissed at her daughter’s visit. 

No, instead Cora had merely said, “Hello Regina,” as if this was a regular as afternoon tea. She had barely bothered to look up from her desk when the brunette had entered the room. Then she just plopped the file down as if she knew what this was all about. 

“What’s this?” she questions, her smart-ass tone coming out. That her Mom is surely familiar with because the woman was present for her teenage years. Oh how family can make you regress. 

“Read it, then ask questions,” Cora reprimands, and she can hear the disapproval already. As if Regina should have known what to do. She has half a mind to walk out and not even bother. But, then she remembers the man waiting outside those mahogany doors, and Regina decides that she can stomach her Mother for longer than two minutes, maybe. 

Regina picks the folder up, opening it as her eyes scan the pages. It’s a police report, well more like a case study. There is a mixture of official documents, photos that a private eye definitely took (good to know Sidney is still in business), and classified Federal Intel. She wonders how on Earth her Mother managed to pull that one off, but Cora Mills never surprises her. The woman is capable of anything. If someone told her Cora single-handedly took down the Russian mob, she wouldn’t doubt it for a second. 

It’s the last page of the folder that has the brunette sputtering in disbelief. “An international arm’s dealer working out of Storybrooke?” Regina raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow in skepticism as the brunette looks to her Mother for answers. 

“I’m as shocked as you are.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Regina declares, tossing the paper weight back onto the woman’s desk. If Cora wanted to get her attention that badly there were other ways of doing it. Not concocting a made-up criminal organization.

It’s fucking Maine, not the Middle East.

“There’s nothing but circumstantial evidence there at best. It’s way too far-fetched to warrant misconduct,” Regina informs. 

“Yes dear. We have nothing to prove that it’s happening, and local authorities have hit a wall on being able to do anything about it. These men are careful, calculated, almost invisible.” 

“Or so you speculate,” she inserts. Because that’s all this really is. People make problems out of nothing often.

Cora lets out a tired sigh, as she begins to rub her temples in slow circles. “Regina, there was a murder.” 

That’s got her attention. The brunette’s mouth hangs open as she processes those words. A crime in Storybrooke beyond simple vandalism and DUI’s is unheard of. “Who?” 

“One of Leroy’s brothers, the doctor I believe. They still own the land that the old mines are on. He went up to check on something, and… well.” Her voice trails off and that’s all she needs to hear. Even if there isn’t a major threat to the nation working out of Maine, there is something strange happening. 

“Any suspects?” 

“Nothing we can make stick.” 

“My work is a bit beyond police investigations Mother. I don’t see how I can help.” 

“It’s because you aren’t the police Regina. This is bigger than this town, and I need someone who knows how to work outside the law.” 

That she can do, but this is not a sanctioned operation. This would be…she’d be on her own with this one. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” 

Cora’s weary. She can tell. This woman usually makes the energizer bunny look exhausted, but right now her Mother actually appears her age. That’s scary. She resembles someone who’s been defeated, and Cora Mills never goes down without a fight. That is enough to have Regina re-thinking her decision. Perhaps she could…no, no. 

“Regina, I’m asking you as your Mother and the Mayor. I need you to look into this for us. I have to protect this town, and we’ve hit a dead-end. If you don’t help I fear that Storybrooke may not survive.” 

Curse her desire to have this woman’s love. If it weren’t for that she would have been gone by now. 

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” She picks up the file, and struts out of the office. Regina nods to her Father who is patiently waiting for her outside the room. He smiles at her, and it kills her because he’s proud, she can tell. 

But, she stopped needing that from anyone a long time ago. 

\---------------------------------------------

The guest house at least got a facelift since she’s last been here. There’s updated appliances, a flat screen, and even a remodeled bathroom. At least she’ll be able to take a hot bath after she’s done trekking about the forest. 

Regina’s got her gear for the reconnaissance she’s about to conduct layed out on the bed. A backpack, similar to one’s used by hikers, which she will be posing as. Good thing she used to go walking around the woods regularly when she was a kid. If not, people might suspect something.

The comforter’s nearly disappeared underneath everything. There’s a flashlight, buck knife, camera equipped with a telephoto lens, water, cell phone, and a spare pair of socks. She’s debating on whether to bring her gun, but she decides to be safe rather than sorry in case there is something to Cora’s nonsense. Plus, being in the wilderness is dangerous enough on its own. 

She pulls on her hip holster that hides the weapon underneath her clothes. She positions the belt so that it’s stuck into her backside, that way it’s more concealed. Nothing’s more noticeable than someone’s who’s packing in the front.

She laces up her boots, making sure they’re extra tight. Years of living in Maine have prepared her for this, not to mention the amount of training she underwent at the academy. That’s why she’s got on a pair of long johns underneath her black leggings, a thermal long-sleeve shirt, and vest, to allow more maneuverability, on. You never know what you’re going to get yourself into, and it’s better to dress smart than stylish. However, that doesn’t stop her from putting lipstick and eyeliner on. 

Regina wonders whether she should bring a map, but she laughs because no one knows this place better than her, except maybe her Mother. Even that’s a stretch. These hills are engraved in her mind.

There’s a trail that leads up to the Northern end of the forest, located where the woods meet the farthest pasture. It’s not a long walk, but she makes sure to avoid the old stables as she makes her way over there. 

The path is a bit run-down, brush overgrowing everywhere obscuring the way, but Regina knows where she’s going. The woods haven’t changed much either. Nature is an eternal part of the world. Even with society’s ‘progress’ that slowly diminishes the size of it, trees still look the same, grass grows, and birds chirp. Simple pleasures she’s forgotten that help keep her grounded. 

Oh, how she used to love this. And Regina lets herself enjoy it for a while, until something disrupts her peace.

There’s a strange odor emitting from the woods once she’s made it a fair way in. It’s unfamiliar, and she can’t place what it is. If that’s not enough to get her nerves on edge, the sounds of a vehicle not far off are. 

The brunette glances around, her only source of help: a tree. She growls in frustration, before she sucks it up. Regina whips out her knife, stabbing it as high up into a trunk’s wood as she can manage. She uses it to lift herself up so that she can reach a branch. From there she climbs up the oak, getting out of sight fast. 

Once she’s perched about 30 feet off the ground with a great view of the forest floor and a bunch of leaves concealing her position, the woman pulls out her camera. Binoculars are useful at times, but she finds a magnifying lens to be more efficient in these cases. 

It’s not long before a black Jeep comes along. Last time she checked, people barely walk this far into the forest, let alone drive. It’s suspicious, and it leaves an unsettling feeling in her stomach as she brings the device up to her eye to get a better view. 

She snaps a photo. 

It’s of two men, who are riding in the car. They are not people she recognizes, but Regina has been gone awhile. There’s not much incriminating about them, other than the three days worth of stubble on the one’s face. Maybe he’s just lazy or thinks he’s cute, but definitely not. 

But Regina’s growing concern is only strengthened when the car stops in the middle of the wood. The men get out of the vehicle, and the one in a half-zip sweater with a scarf goes to the trunk fishing out a bow and arrow. _How pretentious_ , she thinks. 

That theory went to pot when she notices the other guy. A man in nothing but leather with a hideous scar running down his left eye; he definitely is not here to shoot a deer. When a truck thunders up the path she just gotten off, stopping to join them she’s sure it’s a meeting. 

Regina takes another picture, this time of the truck, its tag, and the drivers. 

The men meet in the center of the space their vehicles have created, and Regina snaps one of them all together. There’s nothing incriminating yet, just peculiar. 

“Robin,” one of the men riding in the black truck greets the jeep passenger who’s adorned with the scarf. 

“George,” he returns to the older man who’s bald and wearing an all black tracksuit like some old gangster. 

“I’ve got a shipment coming in two weeks. Do you think your man can handle that?” George asks, but it’s really more of an order. Those Regina is familiar with enough to tell. 

“Do I have an option,” Robin responds, and Regina can sense his disturbance. This man does not want to be here. 

The brunette is waiting. Waiting for a sign, a hint at what this is all about. As far as she knows they’re discussing a new shipment of hair gel for the Jeep’s driver, who’s black hair is slicked back in a way that makes her think it’s defying gravity. 

“No,” George replies, a wicked grin on his face. “Scar, we’re counting on your ability to divert the sheriff’s attention.” 

“Shouldn’t be hard,” the man replies, and his voice adds a sinister aspect to his semblance. “That kid is all she thinks about. I figure the boy goes missing for a couple of hours, that’s enough to time to get in and out.” 

“Good man.” 

“I don’t see why we have to use the boy. There are other ways,” Robin cuts in. But the glare George’s bodyguard shoots him is enough to have the man backing down. 

George snaps his fingers, and the stout assistant she labeled his back-up jumps to attention. He stumbles to the car’s side door, reaching into the backseat and grabbing something she can’t quite see. 

Then he emerges, two semi-automatic assault rifles in hand that are most definitely illegal. Regina snaps about six photos of the guns, before George hands them over to the men. Now she’s got something. 

“Consider them a thank you,” he states. “And be sure to use them if necessary,” George adds over his shoulder. 

Robin looks like he has never seen anything more disgusting, and Scar starts playing with the gun as if it was a toy he just got for Christmas. 

“I’ll be in touch,” George calls as he makes his way back into the truck. They’re gone as fast as they came, and Robin and scruffy boy don’t stick around much longer. 

Regina’s sitting in the tree, wondering what the hell just happened. There was no way her Mother could be right about this, but what she just witness definitely suggests that something is amiss in Storybrooke. 

She needs to figure out who these men are: their real names, occupations, histories. The only way that’s happening is if she can somehow get local law enforcement to identify them from the photos. If she can just get their names right she can call Kat. Rather than send the pictures in for analysis that may take weeks. 

Which reminds her, she needs to pay the new sheriff a visit to warn the woman that her son is in danger without explicitly telling her so. 

__Welcome home, she thinks to herself as she climbs down the tree. Welcome fucking home, Regina._ _

\-------------------------------------

“Hey Sheriff,” Ruby greets as Emma walks into the diner. The waitress is grinning ear to ear, and the blonde can’t help but return the smile to her friend. 

“How’s it going Rubes?” 

“I’m about two minutes away from shoving the mirror that Gus keeps using to look up my skirt when I refill his coffee up his nose. Other than that, fine.” 

Emma snorts. Leave it to Red. 

“Want me to intervene?” she asks, flashing her badge that’s attached to her hip. Ruby shakes her head, ”Not worth it.” 

“If you say so.” 

“Usual?” 

“Yes please, hot stuff,” she adds with a wink knowing it will brighten the waitress’ day. 

“Bear claw, and a metri-fuck ton of coffee coming right up,” Red recants, giving her a predatory grin for the purely lighthearted come-on. 

Emma smiles to herself at the inside joke. The first time she came into the diner, it had been a long day, and when asked what she wanted Emma had smartly answered the girl. Now Ruby used the reference constantly to embarrass her. 

It kind of did the opposite though. 

Red comes back with a brown paper bag, and a large to-go coffee cup handing them over to the blonde. “Be safe,” she warns leaning over the counter to kiss the blonde on her cheek. Emma returns the affectionate gesture before she makes her way out of the establishment. 

As if there was anyway not to “be safe” in Storybrooke. The most action she got into here was breaking up a drunk and disorderly; that were always started by Leroy. There wasn’t much danger there. 

It’s a two minute walk to the station from the restaurant, and Emma is already half-way through her pastry. She was never the most delicate eater. There’s a giant wad of the bear-claw jammed in her mouth, as she steps into work. A sight not uncommon to her co-workers. It’s a wonder they respect her as their superior. 

“There’s someone waiting for you in your office!” A petite blonde who goes by Tink informs her. 

Emma thinks it’s a joke. Because who would be waiting in her office at 8 in the morning. Nothing here was that pressing. She rolls her eyes at the officer, the food hanging out of mouth preventing her from voicing a good comeback. Later, she mentally plots to herself. 

She uses the hand that’s not holding her coffee to open her door, and feels her stomach drop when the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen is actually waiting in her office. 

Just like Tink said. 

Whoever the stranger is stands at her arrival, and Emma gets a full-view of this creature. She’s got a body that would make the heavens weep, perfectly styled hair that curls up on the ends just so, lips that should be illegal, and brown eyes that make the blonde melt into a puddle of mush. Goodness, she’s breath-taking. 

As if her beauty weren’t enough to throw her off, she’s immaculately dressed. A designer outfit most definitely, judging from the skirt and blouse combo with five-inch heels that probably cost more than Emma’s car. She reeks of importance, or of status at least. This cannot be good. 

It’s after this initial inspection she realizes that she is standing in the doorway, gawking at the brunette with food hanging out of her mouth like a moron. 

Emma raises her hand to gesture with her index finger for a minute as she slowly backs out of her office, and closes the door behind her, thoroughly mortified. There’s no coming back from that one. 

The blonde stars at the glass that reads ‘sheriff’ on it for a minute digesting her embarrassment fully before she whips around to glare at her employees. 

Tink is giggling like crazy, and David has tears rolling down his cheeks as he silently laughs. 

“Uh, you couldn’t warn me that there’s a fucking super model in my office?” Emma barks, after she swallows the donut and washes it down with some coffee. 

“I did!” Tink shouts, but her words only draw out more of the laughter from the blonde. 

Emma stares pointedly at the two, ”Who is she?” 

“The mayor’s daughter, Regina Mills,” David informs. 

Holy shit. That lady has a kid? Why didn’t anyone ever tell her that? If she’s anything like her Mother than she was going to be in for one hell of a morning. At least the girl didn’t look like her Mother. That would just be unfortunate. 

“What does she want?” Emma ventures. 

She’s waiting for one of the two dipshits that she’s in charge of to respond, but they merely shrug their shoulders in unison. Emma lets out a noise of frustration, before she decides they’re hopeless. 

The blonde sheriff takes a minute to collect herself, before turning her back to the idiots, and walking into her office for the second time this morning. 

“Sorry about that, my staff is a bit unprofessional. Sheriff Emma Swan, at your service” she greets politely sticking out her hand. 

The brunette glances down to the extended arm, purposely does not shake it, and looks back up the blonde expectantly. Okay…apparently she’s worse than her Mother, which Emma didn’t really think was possible. 

“I doubt I need to introduce myself.” 

Cocky too. 

“How can I help you today Ms. Mills,” Emma ventures, using her most cheerful public servant voice. This is her boss’ kid, so she needs to be respectful, even if the little missy’s got an attitude problem. 

Her answer is an oversized envelope the brunette whips out of a black purse. She hands it over to the blonde, who narrows her eyes at the woman in confusion. Emma doesn’t wait for permission as she opens the folder, pulling out a dozen 10x8 high-quality photos. 

After she thumbs through the images her gaze rises to the brunette who is patiently waiting for her to speak. How she is so calm after what she’s just given Emma is scary. 

“I was wondering if you could identify the two men in these photographs for me Sheriff Swan,” the brunette says casually, as if they’re discussing the Patriots offense. 

“Where did you get these?” the sheriff questions, her voice strong, determined not to let the woman sense her unnerved state. Even though on the inside her internal security system is going off like Canada’s invading. 

“Does it matter?” is her smartass response. When Regina raise one eyebrow in an inquisitive way Emma thinks she may just lose it because this woman is abnormally gorgeous. 

“Seeing as these men are two suspects in a murder investigation that only myself and my deputies know about I would say so, yes.” 

Two can play that game. 

“I’m quite certain you’re leaving someone out,” Regina suggests with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Okay, infuriatingly conceited is getting added to the growing list of annoying traits of Regina Mills. Emma pushes through her agitation only to realize that there is one other person… 

“Your Mother,” she notes. Regina just nods her head in consensus as the blonde has figured out the mystery. 

“She requested that I inquire about the two men on her behalf. You know how Mother’s can be,” the brunette explains away, or so she thinks. 

“No I don’t actually,” Emma says for some reason. 

Regina tilts her head at that, eyes imploring for the blonde to explain the comment. But, Emma brushes it off choosing to focus on the matter at hand instead of the way Regina’s gaze leaves her frazzled. 

“Why does she want to know?” Emma pushes. 

“If only I knew. My mother will forever remain a mystery to me Miss Swan. I only offered as she had a very busy morning and the issue was urgent.” 

“Identifying these men is urgent?” Emma repeats, knowing that is a far-fetched cover up for whatever it is the brunette’s after. She just blew into town, maybe an ex-boyfriend who burned her. The woman seems like the type for some serious revenge. Slashing your tires kind of bitter. 

“I do believe that is what I said,” the brunette explains through gritted teeth. Regina shifts in the chair irritated as she crosses her seriously spectacular legs in a way that has Emma thinking she was a debutante. Like, for sure. 

Emma doesn’t buy it. Not for a second. She’s actually questioning whether this is even Cora’s daughter at the moment. If it weren’t for the similarities in personality she’d be demanding some ID. 

The woman just magically turned up, a rare occurrence in Storybrooke, with pictures of two men that the sheriff is convinced are murderers? Like it’s that simple. 

No way. 

_They’ve been after these guys for months and haven’t been able to get a location on them. The pictures are time-stamped from yesterday. There is something not right about all of this. Emma has a sneaking suspicion that this woman knows a lot more than she’s letting on. About something relating to Doc’s murder. A crime she promised to solve._

The question is how to get that information out of the brunette who is clearly hiding something herself. 

“Afraid I can’t help you.” 

If Regina was annoyed before she now resembles a bull who’s having a red blanket waved in its face. But, she sees the brunette swallow down her rage as she replies 

“Sheriff Swan if need be I will call my Mother to verify.” 

“Call her.” Emma doesn’t really care if Regina calls the Queen of England. 

The brunette is whipping out a phone, dialing with such determination. It doesn’t ring but once before she can hear the icy tone of the Mayor on the other line. 

Apparently Cora doesn’t even care for her own daughter either. It should make her smile as Regina is proving to be a pain in the ass, but instead it just makes her sad. Because the way a faint glimmer of hurt passes over the brunette’s features is enough to tug at her heart strings. 

Regina mumbles something into the receiver about the men, and then hangs up abruptly. It takes two seconds before the sheriff’s direct line is ringing. 

“Hello?” Emma answers cooly, already knowing it’s Cora. She smiles at Regina in a satisfied way, and she can tell it just chaps the brunette’s exquisite ass. 

“Miss Swan my daughter tells me you are being difficult in completing a task I assigned her this morning.” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Well, don’t be. Give her whatever she asks.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“I am not asking you, I’m telling you,” Cora snaps. 

“Madam Mayor last I checked I report to the State of Maine, not you. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m in the middle of a meeting.” With that Emma hands up the phone. The brunette is regarding her with some kind of shock on her face. 

Regina is staring at her with something that Emma deems to be a cross between admiration and utter frustration. Like she’s completely surprised, appreciative, and pissed at the exchange. 

“Now as I was saying Ms. Mills I can’t help you with identifying these men, as I am positive this goes deeper than your Mother requesting their names. However, if you start being honest with me about what this is really about I may help you out.” 

“Miss Swan please don’t force me to go above your head.” 

“Didn’t we already try that?” Emma says, gesturing to the phone. Regina smirks at that. 

“I can assure you my Mother is not my only friend.” It’s a threat judging from the cold glare Regina gives her. 

Emma has plenty of experience in dealing with these types of people. Women who are brought up to believe that the World should bow before them because they exist. She’s never made it a habit to cower before anyone. This won’t be any different. No matter who her parents are. 

“Is that suppose to scare me?” 

“It should.” 

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth?” 

Regina lets out a lengthy sigh. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting this much difficulty from a small town Sheriff. The brunette stands without warning, “I would advise paying closer attention to your son Sheriff Swan. You never know when something bad may happen.” 

Whoa. 

Hold the fucking phone. 

Emma snaps, because it sounds like Regina just threatened Henry. Or informed her of a threat made on Henry that she was not aware of. Whatever. She hadn’t even mention the boy, and here his safety is randomly being mentioned? 

“Wait a minute,” Emma barks, slamming the door that the brunette had just began to open. Any notion of remaining professional gone. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

Regina’s eyes wander back to the pictures spread across Emma’s desk. The way her eyes silently communicate her intention to the blonde is freaky. It’s weird, because Emma knows exactly what the woman is saying without hearing it. Like an unspoken connection they magically have. 

Regina’s voice drops to a low murmur,” Sheriff Swan villains lurk around every corner not just in fairtytales. Don’t let the small-town guise fool you.” 

It’s a warning. Emma gets that part. But for some reason she doesn’t believe it’s the brunette making it. Rather she’s bringing the possibility of harm coming to Henry to her attention. Like something is going to happen. 

Before she can ask anything more the brunette yanks open the door and is gone as fast as she appeared. 

And Emma Swan’s not even entirely convinced that Regina Mills wasn’t a mirage. 

\------------------------------------------------

Emma’s yellow bug has the tendency to stand out, but the department’s unmarked police cruiser doesn’t. That’s why she borrowed it to watch Storybrooke’s latest visitor, after hours of course. 

Regina Mills had asked for an identity they had on the two men in the photos. Emma did have information on them, but she refused to give it to the brunette. The department couldn’t just go handing out confidential files to your friendly neighborhood watchdog. Even if they are the Mayor’s kid. 

The brunette hadn’t liked that. 

It was the way Regina handled the encounter that had Emma wanting to know more about the woman. That fueled the blonde to spend the rest of her day figuring out who the brunette really was; turns out she was Cora’s kid. 

Regina Mills was as squeaky clean as a freshly bathed newborn. There was no criminal record, no parking tickets, nothing in the system to explain her sudden appearance. Or how she would get her hands on those pictures. 

Pictures of guys Emma has been pursuing for months with nothing to show for it. She knew something was going down in Storybrooke. As soon as one of the dwarves turned up dead in a town where crime rates were nonexistent. 

The whole murder stunk, even though they had to declare it an accident. He had fallen and hit his head on a rock, or so that’s what it was made to look like. Leroy and his brothers protested that there was something more there. Emma was inclined to agree with them, but there was no evidence. Emma didn’t like it. But, there was nothing she could do about it, on the clock that is. 

Regina knew something she didn’t and it was connected to that bullshit case. How exactly Emma was unsure, but she was going to tail the woman until she got a better idea of what exactly the brunette was up to. 

When Regina decides to resurface at ten at night, Emma is already waiting for her. She couldn’t follow her back to the Mills’ estate, because there was no way to conceal herself there. So, she waited on Main Street for the black Mercedes to make another appearance. 

Emma made sure to stay two beats behind the woman, not drawing attention to herself as she steadily followed the foreign car out of town. Where the hell is she going? 

Maybe the woman was making a break for it. Heading back wherever she blew in from, if only. This chick was nothing but five pounds of crazy in a two pound bag with heels. There was really nothing to go off, no real reason for her to be following the Mayor’s daughter into the night. Except her gut was telling her there was something more to this. 

That had never let her down before. 

If anything she wanted to reveal some of the secrets the woman was clearly keeping. Now that was a whole other bag of crazy that was her own fault, and it had nothing to do with her job. More like the way the woman’s hips swung when she walked out of her office. 

After fifteen minutes of driving the car pulled into a lot of a dive bar called The Rusty Anchor, except the neon Y and C were blown-out. So it read “Rust An hor”. Emma wasn’t sure if that helped or hurt the joint that was a local watering hole for members of a ruff crowd. 

There were about a dozen motorcycles parked outside the place, which was a sure fire sign of trouble. Not to mention that it literally looked like it was a condemned building. If that wasn’t enough the gentlemen clad in nothing but leather smoking outside was the final give away. Definitely a place she would have been all over in her teen years, which weren’t too long ago. 

The question was what the hell was Regina doing here? 

Emma parked her car in the lot across from the bar, watching as the brunette got out of hers. Holy…assets. The woman fit right in, dressed in skin-tight leather pants, a shirt that dipped low enough that not much was left to the imagination. Combat boots replaced the heals, and sure enough the woman’s hair was appeared purposely disheveled. 

“Well that’s different,” Emma whispered to herself as she watched the brunette apply lipstick in the side mirror. 

A truck drove by, obscuring her view for a minute, and Regina was gone when it passed. She must have went inside. Emma is about three seconds from following her in there. Mostly because she’s afraid the woman might get herself killed, and she wants to know what the fuck would posses her to hang-out here. 

She’s dressed in her civvies, so her red leather jacket won’t stand out. Plus, Emma has handled herself in bars far worse than this plenty of times. Those were the days. 

The blonde is mentally debating what to do next when a tap on the windshield sends her sprawling. Emma slams her head against the Vic’s roof, thoroughly startled. She turns her head to see who the fuck is responsible for the knot forming on her skull now… 

Regina fucking Mills. 

Perfectly applied lipstick and all. 

This woman is proving to be a serious pain in the ass. 

Emma lets out a sigh, wondering how the hell she spotted her. The blonde steps out of the car to confront a pissed of Regina. ”How did you do that?” Emma wonders aloud as she rubs her now aching head feeling stupid because the brunette got the jump on her. She was suppose to be the cop. 

“What are you doing here?” Regina hisses, backing the younger woman up against the cruiser. Emma doesn’t know what’s happening, but the woman’s apparent rage is enough to have her cowering against the car for refuge. It’s actually weirdly exciting, and Regina looks sexy as hell with her nostrils flaring and her lips nearly growling. 

“Whoa, time out!” Emma declares, using her hands to form a T. She takes a breath remembering she’s the one who’s suppose to be controlling this situation. “The better question is what are you doing here? In that no less.” Emma points to the brunette’s ensemble; she’s trying too hard. 

She could have sworn a hint of rouge came over the brunette’s cheeks, but her eyes are still glaring at her with the fire of the sun so she decides being smart is not going to help her. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m getting a drink with an old friend,” Regina roars, clearly more frustrated by their second encounter than the first. 

“Here? Yeah, right!” Emma accuses. 

“Why are you here Sheriff?!” Regina shouts. 

“Why are you here?!” Emma fires back. 

“Miss Swan I suggest you get back in your vehicle and go home,” Regina commands in a low voice that makes Emma’s insides flutter like she’s a kid again. She pushes them back down though, because that cannot happen right now. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Emma’s eyes are shinning defiance; she’s never been one to back down. Especially not when her kid is involved. 

“This is not negotiable.” 

“Damn right it’s not. So I suggest you fill me in on what exactly we’re doing here before I blow your ex-stripper biker chick cover. By the way, men like it when a woman leaves a little something to the imagination.” 

Regina shoots her a look of utter loathing, and Emma fights back the urge to laugh because getting under the brunette’s skin is her new favorite hobby. Regina lets out a long sigh, closes her eyes and presses her index and middle finger to her temple as she figures out what to do next. 

There are a few awkward moments of silence before the brunette breaks it. Through gritted teeth she ask, “How much experience do you have in undercover work?” 

Emma smiles a smile that is similar to the one the brunette gave her in her office earlier today. Because now she is controlling this situation and Regina Mills is about to find out just how useful she can be. 


	2. Glass Shards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions kidnapping.
> 
> Hey, hey, hey. So this came out lol.

They were looking for Scar whose real name was Taka. _No wonder he went with Scar_ , Emma mused when she’d heard it. The guy had a track record as long as Santa’s naughty and nice list. He had been through the rounds, a regular seasoned criminal who would be a great employee. 

And apparently he had a soft spot for a good whiskey and some lady’s of the night. All of which could be found at _The Rusty Anchor_ , which the blonde now affectionately deemed the _Rust and Whore_ because of the sign, also it was more accurate. 

“We’re just here to gather information. Don’t draw attention to yourself, but don’t stick out. Blend in,” Regina instructs as they make the trip from the parking lot to the actual bar. 

Emma chuckles and shakes her hair a bit, throwing her blonde locks back in a way she knows gets people’s attention. Then she turns to the brunette who’s been staring at her with an unreadable expression. “I’m not the one wearing $400 leather pants,” Emma points out. 

Regina gives her a stern glare, takes Emma by the arm and drags her to the door. The whole time the blonde can’t help but smile until she feels the woman’s nails digging into her arm. 

“Just remember I told you to go home Miss Swan. If you in anyway fuck this up I will have your badge,” Regina threatens. And Emma wonders if she could actually do that. 

_Totally worth it._

As soon as they enter the bar all eyes are on them. It was as if the gates to heaven opened up and produced two angels to these demons. Surprisingly, Regina plays it cool as Emma searches her mind for how to handle this situation. _What would teenage bad-ass me do?_

Emma attempts to walk to the bar, but a giant dude with an eye patch and enough piercings and tattoos to put any punk to shame puts himself in between them. He’s about six feet tall and he towers over her, but she makes no note of the fear bubbling up inside her chest on her face. 

“Problem?” Emma snaps, and she can see Regina’s eyes that are flashing panic mode. She’s afraid that the blonde is going to blow whatever mission they’re on in a matter of seconds. But, Emma knows what she’s doing. 

The man glares down at her, but says nothing. So the blonde tilts her head to one side, similar to a puppy as she waits for him to make a move. When he doesn’t she slaps him across the face, hard. At that point an eerie silence falls over the bar that has Emma smiling deviously, because it’s working. Regina looks like she might scream and that makes it even better. 

“Didn’t your Mother ever tell any of you it’s not polite to stare,” the blonde scolds as her eyes scan the entire room. Act like you can take on the whole room, and people will dub you crazy: meaning, they won’t fuck with you.

Some drop their heads, others continue to gawk openly, and then one man begins to laugh so hard that he nearly falls out of his stool. Soon others join in, and eventually the whole bar is roaring with laughter. 

“Oy fellas! It looks like we’ve got ourselves a live one. Lets buy the lady a drink eh?” a man with a top-hat and a creepy smile calls. The bar erupts into cheers as they return to their drinks filling the place with sounds of reckless behavior again. 

“We’re in,” Emma whispers to the brunette as she takes the tan hand in her own, tugging the brunette along. Regina reciprocates the gesture, but Emma can tell she’s clearly baffled as to how they’re not dead. Now she can know what being thunderstruck feels like. 

“Whiskey, neat,” Emma calls to her newfound friend as she shrugs off her jacket and sits down. Whatever Regina was hoping to find here just became all the more possible.

 

…

An hour later they’re in a dart tournament with a buff guy named Clayton who keeps droning on about an ape-man and a dude with blue hair who calls himself Hades. Emma suspects it’s to hide a dorky name like Harrison or Hamilton. 

They’re winning. 

Mostly because these idiots are too drunk to hit a bulls-eye, and apparently Regina was a champion dark thrower in her younger years, because she hasn’t missed a shot yet. 

“Any sign of him?” Emma whispers to the brunette as she leans into her side. 

They’ve been playing this whole flirtatious girlfriends act all night. It’s an easy cover to talk discreetly, and also it gets the guys attention, which is what they need.

Emma’s trusting her instincts about Regina’s abilities, and she’s pegging the brunette for some sort of federal agent by the way she slips into the role without any prompting. They’re reading each other like old pros, and the blonde hasn’t met someone with those abilities since…ever.

No ones ever been able to connect with her like that. 

Regina makes it a point to stand just far back enough so that Emma’s doesn’t get the wrong idea, that this is a personal attraction. Except, Emma can tell that being so close to the brunette is doing something to her. Why else would someone feel the need to do something like that when they’re only pretending?

“None,” Regina breathes into her ear and shivers run down Emma’s spine. That’s unusual. 

Regina smells delicious; like vanilla, apples, and cinnamon. What the hell does she wash her hair with? It’s intoxicating, more so than the two drinks Emma’s had. Their eyes meet, and Emma finds herself slowly drifting to the brunette’s lips. Strangely enough Regina is staring at her lips, and Emma thinks there’s a good chance she won’t slap her if she… 

“Kiss her,” a man who resembles a crustacean yells. They realize they’re not alone, as the drunkard basically threw a bucket of cold water over them. Emma and Regina turn their heads to see the gang of men they’ve been drinking with whistling and cat-calling like teenage boys. They back off from one another, “you wish,” Emma screams at them.

Emma takes the darts from Clayton to distract them with the game again, and not the whole kissing suggestion.

But Emma’s flustered and she misses horribly. Regina is smirking at her, satisfied by her effect on the blonde. 

“I’m rusty,” Emma reasons, and Regina purses her lips. 

“Cleary,” she says in a way that has Emma wondering if they’re still talking about darts or her seduction skills. Before she can get a better answer their man walks in and the game changes. 

Scar perches at the bar, and in two seconds flat some very slutty women are on his arms, probably his regular mistresses. They finish their game, and take a seat at a table with a better view. Emma’s concealing herself behind her old six-foot friend who greeted them upon their arrival (at least he was useful for something) and Regina is pretending to be very interested in her vodka soda. 

Scar orders a margarita of all things, and Emma turns her face up in utter surprise. Regina laughs heartily at her expression, and that has the blonde staring at her. 

“Didn’t think you were capable of that,” Emma teases. 

Regina’s features fall back into a hard glare once again that seems to be her trademark face for the blonde. “Pay attention Miss Swan,” she chides as they focus back on the target. 

They order another round, and pretend to sip on their drinks as they listen to Scar’s poor attempts at flirting with the women who are clearly prostitutes; it’s actually quite pathetic.

“No girl in their right mind would sleep with him for free with those sorry moves,” Emma comments, and Regina rolls her eyes at her as if she is so ridiculous. 

A disgruntled man makes his way through the crowd to Scar who appears a bit thrown off by the man’s presence. “I need to talk to you,” the stout man proclaims in a huff. Scar is clearly pissed as he shuffles the guy away from the women shushing him the whole time. 

Regina’s ears perk up like a German Shepard’s as she hones in one something that may be a break for them. A break in whatever the fuck case they’re on, Emma quickly amends. For all she knows the brunette has her on a wild goose chase for el chupacabra. 

“It’s about Robin,” the jittery man explains, and Emma already has him marked as a crack-head (like, an actual one).

“Keep it down Banzai,” Scar croaks. 

There are some faint rumbles about the operation, nothing specific, but now Emma knows now why Regina was so concerned with figuring out who these men are. They’re plotting something big. 

“He’s going to blow the exchange.” 

Emma stares at Regina searching her brown eyes for an answer to what these men are going on about. She gives nothing away, but the blonde can sense something is off. This is exactly why they’re here. 

“What are you talking about?” Scar growls. 

“Robin…he’s going to sabotage the kidnapping on purpose.” 

At the word ‘kidnap’ Emma’s pupils blow wide as her grip on the whiskey glass tightens so much that it shatters in her hand. Henry, it’s just like Regina warned. 

Emma’s too busy trying to figure out how many different ways she can kill these men in the next ten seconds to see the blood trickling down her hand or feel the piece of glass that’s stuck in her palm. But, Regina quickly wraps the wound in the bandana she had in her back pocket. 

“Come with me,” the brunette murmurs softly, as she tugs the blonde up and out of her chair holding onto her hand to stop the bleeding. Emma is too busy watching Scar and his friend to cooperate. The brunette’s grip tightens as she husks, “killing them now won’t solve anything. It will only put Henry at greater risk. We need to move fast before they recognize you.” 

The words make sense, her brain tells her that. But, her heart, that is saying something else entirely. Her kid is being threatened right before her and her instincts are to rip their throats out. The only thing stopping her is the Regina, whose touch is making her stay in reality instead of diving into the blind rage consuming her. 

She lets Regina guide her outside. Mostly because if she fights it they will make an even bigger scene than when they first got here, and she’s not sure what Scar will do if he sees her. 

“Take me with you,” Hades calls to them from the smoke circle he’s currently standing in outside the bar. He’s misinterpreting the way Regina is leading her away as something more when she’s really trying to hide the open wound that would definitely attract some bad attention. 

“In your dreams,” Regina yells back, flashing the man a flirtatious smile as she continues to hold Emma’s hand as if they’re more than just friends. It was smart, pretending as if nothing was going on, masking the blood with a smile. That’s why the blonde doesn’t fight her when she opens the Mercedes passenger door for her. She just gets in. 

As soon as Regina gets into the driver’s seat they take off faster than Emma thought possible for a car, maybe a rocket, but not a sedan. They make it about a mile down the road and the brunette pulls off to the side. Within seconds Regina is turning on the overhead light as she takes the blonde’s hand, her eyes pouring over it. 

“It’s fine,” Emma grunts. 

Regina ignores her as she reaches in the back for a bag. Emma recognizes the purse from earlier in her office. The brunette pulls out a set of tweezers and a pencil. “Bite down on this,” she instructs placing the writing utensil in Emma’s mouth. 

“What? No, that’s lead poisoning.” 

“Just do it,” the snarky brunette commands and Emma obliges because so far following Regina blindly is paying off. 

Emma puts the pencil between her teeth as the brunette lines up the tweezers with the glass shard sticking out of her skin. The sight makes Emma squirm a bit, because she was never one for blood. “Hold still,” Regina scolds as she tightens her grip around the girl’s wrist to steady it. 

As soon as the tweezers brush against the glass a shooting pain goes up her arm, and Emma understand the pencil. She bites down hard, as the brunette wiggles the piece then yanks it out in one swift pull. She lets out an unpleasant scream at the removal. Regina smiles ever so slightly at that and says, “You’re worse than a child.” 

“You are mean,” the blonde declares, spitting the pencil out and pouting. Regina is searching in her giant Mary Poppin’s bag again for another makeshift bandage.

She finds an old scarf and swaps it out for the bloodied handkerchief. As the brunette is tending to her wound it’s then Emma notices how delicate her touch is. Despite her hardened features and snarky comments the woman is fawning over her like a total Mom, making sure she’s okay in the softest of ways. Regina totally saved her from doing something stupid back there, and now she’s patching her up.

_This bitch is bat-shit crazy_ , Emma decides. But she finds that she likes it for some weird reason. 

It’s a strange contrast to see and it makes Emma think that there is way more to this woman than what is on the surface. She’s curious, and people are never this fascinating to her. The brunette gives a satisfied nod at her handiwork. 

“It won’t need stitches, but you’ll need to put a proper bandage on it,” Regina proclaims. 

“Thanks.” 

There’s a moment of silence between them, and Emma finds herself gazing into the brunette’s eyes wondering what causes all the pain behind them that she tries to mask. 

“I didn’t want to be right Miss Swan,” Regina concedes, shame gracing her features as she avoids Emma’s stare. It’s too intense for her to bear. 

“I know,” is Emma’s genuine reply. Obviously the brunette is trying to help for whatever reason, even if she has strange and rude ways of going about it. “What now?” 

“Now I’m going to take you back to your car, and you’re going to go home to your son,” Regina brushes off, as she puts the car in gear and doubles back to the bar. 

“You don’t think I’m going to let you go about this on your own do you? Regina I’m the sheriff, you’re… well you’re the Mayor’s daughter. This is something the police should handle.” 

Regina laughs in a mocking way; she doesn’t like being told what to do apparently. 

“Lets not forget that everything you’ve found out Miss Swan was at my aid, and hardly legal. You have no case, just a hunch with no proof.” 

“Your photos-“

“Are mine, and have been disposed of promptly.” 

Emma fishes out her cell phone, dialing the station. David answers, because he’s been assigned to nights this month.

“Hey chief, what’s up?” he greets, and she can hear him chewing on a donut. 

“David that envelope I told you to file away earlier, can you go get it?” 

Emma is looking at Regina, whose eyes are trained to the road, but there is a devious smirk at the corners of her lips. She really doesn’t like that cocky smile. 

“It’s not here,” David reports. 

“Check again,” Emma barks. 

“Sorry Sheriff, maybe Tink moved it? I can call her, she should be up.” The clock reads nearly one in the morning, and there’s no way Bell would do that. 

“Don’t bother. Thanks David. Be safe tonight, okay?” 

“You got it.” 

Click. 

Emma stares at the road, refusing to look at the smug expression on Regina’s face currently. 

“Trouble with properly logging evidence? You should invest in a file cabinet that locks, Sheriff.” 

“Breaking and entering is a crime.” 

“If you can prove it,” Regina reminds. 

“And I’m guessing there will be no trace of any tempering if I check.” 

Regina doesn’t speak, and that’s her answer. Who the fuck is this chick? Some secret agent sent to make her life a living hell? 

“Regina you need to let me handle this,” Emma tries again, her aggravation building. 

“Handle what?” 

“Whatever confidential criminal offense is happening.” 

“Now you’re just sprouting nonsense.” 

Emma lets out a sound of frustration. “Look you have no right to go and play cop. You could get hurt, or worse. You need to let me take this from here.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Really? You can handle a gang of miscreants who are capable of who knows what and are plotting who the fuck knows what by yourself?” Emma deadpans, expecting to have put a chink in the brunette’s suicide mission. 

“Please get out of the car,” Regina answers, as Emma realizes they’ve pulled back up along side her cruiser. 

“I’m not leaving until you promise me you’ll leave this to the police.” 

“You’re wasting your time Sheriff Swan.” 

“Regina this involves my kid. Please?” 

That seems to have done something to the brunette whose face softens at the mention of the boy. 

“He’s safer if I’m involved,” Regina offers in a gentle murmur. “Can you trust me with that?” 

Trust? That’s a loaded word. No, Emma can’t just trust a total bitchy stranger who is somehow tied to this serious situation that she just found out about. But, she finds that for some insane reason she does trust Regina. 

“You’re not going to stop are you?” 

Regina just leans her head into her hand, clearly hitting a brick wall. She wasn’t planning on Emma tracking her. 

“No.” 

“Then we’re going to do this together.” 

“I work alone.” 

“No, you did work alone. Now you work with the SPD.” 

“For fuck’s sakes,” Regina cries out, patience evaporated completely. “Don’t you get it? The police can’t help. Any wind of your people getting involved and this meet is blown! They’ll run away because this operation is too valuable to be careless. These criminals are smart, calculated, and they’re not messing around. This goes deeper than just a premeditated kidnapping, that’s just the surface!” 

“How deep?” 

“I can’t…I can’t divulge that information.” 

“Look, I’m going to give you tonight to think about what I just said. If I have to I will literally get a patrol to follow your every move; these bad guys will notice that. So you either take my help, or you walk away.” 

Emma can tell that the brunette isn’t going to walk away. That’s how she knows she’s got her. 

“Goodnight, Sheriff.” Regina pronounces every syllable firmly dismissing the woman. 

Emma gets out of the car, dipping her head back into the window, “Goodnight Regina.” The blonde smirks as she gets into her own car, and the brunette watches her drive away before she herself starts for home. 

Regina reaches for her phone, hitting the first speed dial before she puts it up to her ear. 

“Hello Kathryn. I need you to fax me over everything we have on an Emma Swan, the Sheriff of Storybrooke.” 

If the blonde wanted to play hard-ball, she’d fucking play. 

\--------------------------------

She gave her two days. When Emma didn’t hear from the enigmatic woman after that she went looking. 

Emma found the brunette straddling a beast between her legs in a pair of skin-tight kakis. This chick road horses too. Is there anything she didn’t do? 

“Sheriff Swan,” Regina greets politely as she bring the horse to a stand still hopping off the creature with the grace of a ballerina. 

Okay, there’s no way she’s this perfect. 

Regina is pulling off the whole rich-girl horseback riding outfit like a model. Riding boots that compliment her calves, a white oxford shirt with just enough buttons open to show an appropriately enticing amount of cleavage. Her hair is tousled from riding, and fuck she has that lipstick on that makes her mouth look like a damn lollipop that Emma seriously wants to lick. 

“How can I help you?” she asks, handing the reins off to a nearby stablehand as she struts confidently to what appears to be a guesthouse. 

“Lets see…I said a day and you took two. Are you in the habit of ignoring requests or just mine?” 

“I will confess I find aggravating you to be my new favorite past-time,” the brunette replies with a small smile. Is she flirting? Hell no, no way. 

“That’s all fine and dandy, but we’ve got a situation on our hands and I need to know whether you’re in or out.” 

“I don’t sit well with threats, Sheriff.” 

“And I don’t like it when ring leaders of criminal organizations try to do business in my town, but we deal.” 

Regina turns back, “Yeah I figured that part out on my own,” Emma informs. 

The brunette makes no note of this as she enters the lavish guesthouse, which is about the size of Emma’s own. Give or take some designer furniture. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here visiting with my parents, that’s all.” 

Emma feels like she’s going to explode. “Seriously? We’re playing this game now?” 

“I don’t play games Miss Swan.” 

“For the love of firearms, if you’re going to undermine me like that please call me Emma.” 

Regina lets out a laugh as she heads for the drink bar, “cider, Emma?” she offers, ignoring the conversation that the blonde is having with herself evidently.

“You’re infuriating.” 

“And you’re wasting my oxygen,” the brunette snaps. 

There’s something different about the woman. Her eyes are darker, her features more stiff, and there is no longer the facetious, fiery kick behind her words. Instead there’s coldness to her that Emma finds completely daunting.

“I don’t understand you,” the blonde mutters. 

“I could care less if you did.” 

“What is it with you? I thought we had an agreement?” 

“I never agreed to anything,” Regina corrects. 

“Regina there is something bad happening, and I think you’re aware that Storybrooke police are not equipped to handle it. You were right about this needing to be dealt with outside of the law.” 

“Of course I was right.” 

“Don’t you get it? I’m willing to work on your terms, as long as you bring me in.” 

“I’m not in the habit of accepting unwanted help.” It’s the way she says it that does it for the blonde. As if the idea of working with someone like Emma is beneath her. Gone is the woman who bandaged up her hand the other night. The woman standing across from her now is a whole different beast. Emma’s not sure what’s happened, but she’s pretty sure she’s not about to let the woman make her feel like shit. No one gets to do that to her anymore. 

“Fuck you,” Emma lets out. Regina’s attention zones in at that, brown eyes burning a hole in her own. “You know what? You’re on your own. Don’t call me when you fall on your face.” 

Emma’s not sure what posses her to be abrupt, but the words are out faster than she can process them. Emma decides to run with it, storming out of the woman’s place in a huff.

Maybe that will knock her off the high horse she’s been riding on all her life. 

\---------------------------------

“Are you dumb?” Kathryn screams into the receiver and Regina cringes. 

“Not particularly, no,” is the brunette’s curt reply. 

“Regina, you have local law enforcement willing to help you, and you turn her down?” 

“You don’t understand, the woman is-“ 

“I don’t care if she’s an ogre. She’s an asset that you need to use. Having her on your team can only help.” 

Regina knows this. She has known this ever since Emma accompanied her to the bar. She’s useful, and she could use the help on this one. Especially since she doesn’t have any back up. It’s her own weakness that made her snap at the blonde. Regina never cared much for relying on people, and how fast she did on Emma was perturbing. 

“That bridge is burned,” Regina informs, hoping she’ll drop the subject and move on to more helpful matters. Fat chance in hell of that happening with Kathryn, but she can dream.

“Say you’re sorry.” 

“There’s a better chance of pigs flying darling,” Regina sings into the phone. She can hear her best friend chuckle darkly on the other line. 

“I know that, but this is not an actual apology. A fake one to get you back in the Sheriff’s good graces. Until we have something more concrete I can’t help you.” 

“You know this is your hometown as well,” Regina reminds. Pulling out all the stops to get out of the conversation she’d have to have with the Sheriff. 

“Yes, which is why I am helping you, off the books. There’s not a fucking thing that could get me to step foot in that inferno ever again.” 

Regina laughs, because they have similar viewpoints. Yet, here she is. Sipping coffee, staring at horses, and talking to her best friend on the phone like she’s sixteen again. 

“Regardless, I don’t think I can make things operational with the woman again. She sort of caught me at a horrible time,” Regina explains knowing it’s enough of a hint. 

She can hear Kathryn’s gears turning from D.C. “Daniel…” 

Regina doesn’t answer, which is the answer. 

“Damn, she may well not.” 

“I’ll try,” Regina concedes. 

“That’s my girl” is the smug response her best friend gives her before the brunette hangs up on her.


End file.
